Photo Albums and New Beginnings
by Diary
Summary: Slash. "Sometimes, children just get inexplicable cases of puppy love based on the simplest of things." Complete. Edited slightly.


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

* * *

"My son hasn't done anything," are Narcissa Malfoy's first words.

Quietly, Harry holds up his wrapped package. "I have an invitation."

Granted, he imagines it's not the same invitation everyone else received. An owl had delivered a letter at the ministry saying, 'Potter, my mother is throwing me a birthday party at the Manor tomorrow at seven p.m. If you receive an anonymous tip about any supposed wrongdoings on the part of my family, my guests, or me, would you kindly wait until my presents are unwrapped to make your arrest? And kindly inform Wealsey that the cake is reserved for attendees who actually bring a present.'

Really, if he's honest, it isn't so much an invitation.

"Of course, you do," Narcissa mutters as she accepts the gift and moves aside. "We're starting off in the dining hall. Welcome."

He hands his cloak to a hired elf, smiling slightly as the elf looks up at his scar in wonder.

Keeping his head down, he enters the dining room, eyes discreetly scanning the other guests.

Pansy Parkinson is playing with an owl and talking to one of the Carrow twins; the other twin is sitting on the ceiling and reading. Millicent Bulstrode is talking to the Greengrass sisters. Theodore Nott is watching his daughter play with Millicent's cat.

"Potter," Blaise Zabini says, quietly, startling Harry. "Here," he says, handing Harry a goblet and setting a plate in front of him.

"Thank you."

Slowly the rest of the room becomes aware of his presence, and he continues sipping his elf-made wine. He wishes Susan Bones had come so that he'd have someone to talk to. Thankfully, it doesn't take long for the others to relax and resume their normal activities.

After about ten minutes, Draco and Lucius Malfoy appear, the latter immediately spotting Harry and glowering. Harry gives him a cold look and continues sipping his wine; as long as he's careful, it'll last all night without him ending up tipsy.

After he kisses Pansy on the cheek and has a short, playful dance with her, Draco sits down, only for his eyes to automatically land on Harry, and he immediately tenses, making to get up. Narcissa, however, quickly goes over to her son, whispering to him. He sits down, expressionless eyes not leaving Harry's.

Sara Nott, ill-content with the lack of attention directed towards her since her father started looking between Harry and Draco, floats up to the ceiling and crawls into the Carrow twin's lap, only for Daphne to summon the book down. "Come on down, you two. Draco's here."

After everyone's sat down, Lucius Malfoy stands and taps his goblet. Harry doesn't want him to actually die, but remembering Trelawney's fit about thirteen people and the first standing, Harry thinks he wouldn't be too sad if, for once, she happened to get something right.

"My family's been through a lot these past few years-" Trying to kill an eleven-year-old and several other students, trying to get a beloved pet killed, helping get my uncle killed, and trying to put an evil wizard in charge of the wizarding world, Harry thinks, bitterly–"but through it all, we've remained strong. Today, my son turned twenty, and it gives me more pleasure than I can adequately express to be here to celebrate that with our friends and family. To Draco."

"To Draco," everyone repeats, raising their glass and taking a sip.

Spotting a nearby elf, Harry waves her over. Softly, he asks, "Would it be possible to get something non-alcoholic? I have to go to work at eleven, and I don't want to risk it."

Nodding, the elf takes his cup and waves her hand across it. She hands it to him, and he takes a careful sip, pleasantly surprised to find butterbeer. "Thank you," he whispers.

Patting his knee, she curtsies, and then, wanders over to Blaise and Millicent.

Soon, food appears, and while everyone eats, they talk about various misadventures Draco had when he was younger, which Harry eagerly listens to, even finding himself laughing a few times, though it's hard not to angrily interject when Dobby's mentioned.

After the meal, Narcissa stands up. "Draco became a man a long time ago, but some part of him is always going to be my little one. Happy twentieth birthday, baby boy. You'll never know how blessed your father and I are to have you. To Draco."

"To Draco," everyone repeats, again raising their goblets and taking a drink. Harry watches as Draco looks down, cheeks flushed pink. Lucius clasps him on the shoulder, and Narcissa kisses one cheek while stroking the other.

Harry's not sure what he feels. Watching loving families has always brought a smile to his face; even the Durselys occasionally had such an effect on him. On the other hand, those times were rare, and the Malfoys are even worse than they were.

Everyone makes way to the parlour, and Narcissa says, "You're not opening any of the presents until I get a picture with a smile, Draco."

"Must we have this argument every year, Mother?"

"No," she answers. "If you'd do as you're told, there'd be no need."

It takes several tries, but when Draco does finally give a proper smile, Harry finds himself staring. He's seen Draco smirk and put on cold, haughty smiles before; in second year, when Ron accidentally cursed himself to vomit slugs, Malfoy had been on the ground, beating it as he laughed uproariously.

This smile is different than any of that. It's small and slightly goofy looking, showing teeth and everything, and it makes him look like a normal, approachable bloke.

"Open mine first, Draco," Pansy says, handing him a small, baby pink package.

Harry wonders if, perhaps, he should just quickly remind everyone there is an auror in the room and that, a person deciding not to have their presents opened now, isn't illegal.

Draco carefully opens the package, revealing a golden scorpion, which Harry recognises as cologne dispenser. Draco positions it over his left wrist and pushes the tail down. A small amount drifts out from the now-opened mouth. He sniffs his wrist, and then, gives a one-armed hug to Pansy, kissing her head. "Thank you, Pansy."

"Me, Mummy, and Dad's next," Sara insists, holding up a wrapped present and a bag. "Bag's from Mummy and me, and the book's from me and Dad," she informs him.

"Thank you," Draco says, setting them down and reaching down to tug her one of her unplaited pigtails. The book turns out to be a new Alchemy textbook, and the bag contains a snow globe. He shakes it, and light, non-cold snow falls gently from the ceiling.

"It also does rain and makes stars and balls of sun come," she says, excitedly, showing him how it works. "Daddy got me one for Christmas, and I told Mummy you'd like one, too. You can tell it how long you want it to do things. I don't need a nightlight when I have the moon and stars inside."

"This'll come in handy," he tells her. "Thank you. Tell your mum I'm impressed."

She nods, crawling back into her father's lap, who gives Draco an amused look.

Blaise gives Draco the newest in his line of chameleon robes, and Millicent gives him a gift certificate to Blaise's store, which causes judgemental looks from both said boyfriend and Draco. She shrugs. "I believe in certificates only."

Shaking his head, Draco sets the robes and certificate down, shaking Blaise's hand. He gives Millicent a mildly dirty look.

Harry frowns, glancing at the three, wondering if Millicent was officially invited or if Blaise had gotten a 'bring your hag-blooded girlfriend if you must'. Maybe, she didn't want to come but had been convinced. From his view, there's nothing wrong with a gift certificate. Zabini's chain sells good-quality, somewhat pricey stuff, too.

As Draco opens a joint gift from the Carrow twins, Daphne leans over and whispers, "She must've bought it from one of the clerks who didn't know her. Blaise wanted them to do a joint gift, but she refused."

Ah, Harry thinks and is quickly distracted to realise Draco's newest gift is a set of blood quills. Blood quills are legal, the only restriction being a person must be overage to buy them, but to give them as a birthday gift?

His hand itches and he briefly scratches it as the Greengrass sisters go up with their presents.

Draco shakes both the twins' hands, and then, opens Astoria's present, which turns out to be a dazzling mermaid-tear pearl, causing everyone to crowd around and admire it. "It's from my friend, Kyla, in Calais," she tells the room. "She was quite happy to give it to me," she says, proudly.

Mermaid-tear pearls are rare and often the product of kidnapping and emotional cruelty, but some people, usually aquamagizoologists such as Astoria, befriend a mermaid who's so happy for their friend that they cry and willingly make a pearl out of it, giving it the person as a sign of hopefully everlasting friendship.

Harry wonders if the rumours of Draco and Astoria dating are true.

After the awe has died down over that gift, Draco opens Daphne's, which is a pair of omnioculars.

"This is from Auror Potter," Narcissa says, handing Draco the present.

Harry shifts uncomfortably as everyone but Sara glances at him.

Carefully, Draco unwraps the plain brown paper.

Once, at Hogwarts, Harry had been looking through the photo album Hagrid had given him during his first year. Draco had been wandering around sans Crabbe and Goyle and spotted him. He'd expressed admiration for the album and tried to talk to Harry about it.

Harry remembers thinking that the other boy was genuinely interested, but he'd quickly convinced himself that Malfoy was just trying to take the mickey, same as always, and told him to sod off, leaving the courtyard as he did so.

Really, Harry's aware this is probably a terrible gift. Either Draco won't understand, or he'll take it as an insult. The truth is, though, that Harry has no idea what would make a good present. Draco's interested in Alchemy and modifying magical objects, but that still doesn't help due to Harry having no interest in such things and being unwilling to ask Hermione or Arthur Weasley for advice on the matter. He doesn't know if Draco is still interested in Quidditch or not.

For a long moment, Draco simply looks at the album, fingers skimming over it. Then, his slightly goofy, approachable smile appears, and he walks over, offering his hand.

Harry shakes it, reflecting that if Draco had smiled like that when they were eleven, he might have been tempted to shake it. He wouldn't have, not after the insults towards Ron, but he'd have been tempted.

"Thank you," Draco says, breaking the handshake.

"Here, darling, open my present, and then, you can do your father's," Narcissa says.

Hers turns out to be the newest broom on the market, a pair of dragonskin boots and dragon leather gloves, and a worldwide season pass.

He barely manages not to roll his eyes. He's been told he spoils his friends, which he doesn't believe, but Malfoy likely gets gifts like this every year. He's twenty, now. How many more years is he going to get everything he could possibly want?

"As you all know," Lucius starts, and Harry resists the urge to snap that the ministry isn't unjustly spying on the Malfoy family, and so, no, he probably doesn't know, "I haven't been happy with my son's plans to take a year off to travel the world. However, he's determined to do so, and I need to accept that. I'm officially giving him my blessing." Handing a mokeskin pouch with **Draco Lucius Malfoy** sewn in black into it, he says, "I hope this proves to be a good experience for you. Remember, no matter where you go, the love of your mother and I will follow you."

Harry officially feels horrible for his earlier wish towards Lucius Malfoy. He's still an evil man, in Harry's opinion, but this drives home how much he truly, just as his wife does, loves his son. He also realises the deeper meanings most of the gifts have taken now that he knows Draco will be leaving soon. It's a shame; if he'd known, he'd have gotten a more appropriate, useful gift.

"Thank you, Father," Draco says, giving his father a brief hug.

He opens the pouch and withdraws a tent, a compass, a medikit and book on illness and injuries, a cauldron, a year-round ticket for the Knight Bus, a portkey to the Manor, a pouch of floo powder, and a camera.

Harry can't help but be grateful for the last. Maybe, there'll be an actual use for his gift, after all.

"I want a picture of everyone," Draco declares, and Harry starts to move back to make sure he doesn't accidentally get in it, but Daphne grabs him. "You too, Auror Potter," Draco says, noticing this. "You're part of my last night in England."

Once several pictures have been taken, the cake's brought out, Draco says, "Potter brought a gift, and I'm a man of my word. Let's let him have the first piece."

"Only if I get a bigger piece," Sara says, obviously used to getting first servings.

"That sounds good," Harry agrees, telling the serving elf, "just a very small piece for me, please."

…

Once the party starts to disperse, Harry asks the elves if he can help with the cleaning.

"Take my son for a walk, Auror Potter," Narcissa says, leading a frowning Draco over. "He'll try to pack if I let him go to his room. He always forgets things when he does; it's better to distract him for long enough to let the elves do it."

"Alright," Harry agrees.

Sighing, Draco summons a beanie, which surprises Harry; he's used to only seeing halfbloods and muggle-borns with them. An elf hands them their cloaks.

Once they leave, one of the peacocks repeatedly steps on Draco's foot.

"Er," Harry says, not sure what to make of Draco's calm, motionless stance, wondering if he should draw his wand.

"Give it time," Draco says, sounding bored. "This one stole some of my cards. Because I'm a reformed citizen who doesn't use any Dark magic or physical violence, I've put a spell on the pond so that it can't see its reflection. As soon as I get my cards back, it gets its reflection."

Harry stands awkwardly for about ten minutes while the bird steps on Malfoy's feet, headbutts his legs, and tries smacking him with his feathers, which only causes some of them to fall off. Eventually, it snaps its beak and wanders away.

"Why would it want your cards?"

A shrug is his only answer.

They walk in silence for a bit before Harry says, "I'm sorry for crashing your party, Malfoy."

"I'm glad you came, Potter. The Chosen One showing up will no doubt make my family very important once it gets out," Draco answers, neutrally. "Why did you come?"

The truth is that Harry has no idea. He's been a bit lost lately.

Obviously deciding not to pursue it, Draco asks, "Want to find a pub and have a drink?"

"Will that be okay with your parents?" The Weasleys have never tried to control where their adult children still living at the Burrow go or how long they're gone, but they do want to know where the person will be and how long they'll be there. And he knows how protective Narcissa Malfoy is.

"It'll be fine," Draco answers, adjusting his beanie.

…

They find a quiet pub, and Harry orders a cup of tea, causing Draco to shoot him a questioning look as he orders a glass of ale.

"I have work at eleven," Harry explains as they find a booth and sit down. "I had about half a glass of elf-made wine, and then, asked one the elves for something non-alcoholic; she replaced it with butterbeer."

"I read about you and the Weaslette."

"Don't call her that," Harry snaps. "And yes, we broke off our engagement. It was amiable enough, but I've moved into my own flat. I imagine any of the reasons you read are bloody off-the-mark."

"I'm just surprised you hadn't gotten married years ago and already popped out one or two."

Sighing, Harry resists the urge to order something stronger. It's a personal rule of his, not to turn to alcohol when he's going through a rough time. He's never had a problem, but he's seen too many people who have; good people, and once they managed to get on that road, it took a lot to get them off it. Some of them are still on it, something he's had to grudgingly and painfully accept. He'll stick to moderate social drinking.

"You're not the only one," he answers, bitterly.

"I won't ask," Draco says, taking a drink. "Thank you for your gift; I'll be sure it doesn't go to waste."

"Why'd you send me that owl? The ministry hasn't been bothering you, your family, or anyone there." Before Malfoy can answer, he says, "And don't give me any rubbish about Sara Nott. She moved a bridge. A non-magical bridge in a muggle city. Auror Savage played with her until Susan finished her surgery and came to talk to us. Nott paid the fine when he got back from Romania, we put it on Sara's file, which will be sealed once she's seventeen, and aside from all the damage control we had to do-"

"I'm leaving tomorrow," Draco interrupts. "I've haven't talked to you since that last day at Hogwarts. I felt an urge to send you an owl, and that's the only thing I could think of."

"A simple, 'I'm having a birthday party, would you like to come,' was too hard?"

"What would your reaction have been to that?"

When Harry stops to think, he has to, unfortunately, concede Draco's point. "Fair enough," he mutters. "So," he says, awkwardly, "you're free to tell me to shove it, but are you and Astoria dating?"

"We did," Draco answers. "For a bit. When I come back, if she hasn't found someone, we might get married. We'll never be in love, but we've become very good friends."

"Huh," Harry says.

He's still not completely sure why he and Ginny broke up. They were good together, and then, they weren't. They tried to work it out, they really did, but eventually, it came down to Ginny handing her engagement ring to Hermione and telling her, "Find a way to put it to good use." Soon after, the Weasleys had helped him move into his new flat.

He still loves her and they still floo over to talk to one another about difficult cases and tough matches, but he doesn't really miss being her boyfriend. She's tentatively dating a reporter who works at The Quibbler, nothing serious, but he's been over at the Burrow for dinner a few times, and Harry and Ron have done a full background check on him.

"Just as a person having a drink with you, not as an Auror, why do you want to travel the world?"

For a long moment, Draco nurses his drink, not answering. Then, he says, "I suppose it's time to grow up."

Harry stays quiet, dreadfully curious as to where this is going.

"It's not just wanting to maintain the status quo or any of that, Potter," Draco says. "There are compelling arguments against blood mingling and letting eleven-year-old muggle-borns into wizarding society and giving them full rights when they turn seventeen. As for families like the Weasleys, they have plenty of options for family planning; most of them are free and easy-to-obtain. Yet, instead of planning, they just kept having these children they couldn't adequately support. My feelings towards all that are likely never going to change."

"But," he says, tapping his glass for a refill, "growing up, I thought my father was one of the most intelligent, powerful wizards in the world. He was never wrong, and he'd never be on the wrong side. I still love him, but the war proved he's a weak coward."

"He's your dad," Harry says, uncomfortably. He's not sure he can defend Lucius Malfoy; as far as he's concerned, those words are too mild to describe the man. However, the elder Malfoy does love his son, which has to count for something.

"As I said, I still love him." After taking a drink, Draco says, "I was a git in school. A sadist, more than one person has called me. I don't care if you or the rest of the wizarding world forgives me or not, but I want to find out who I really am. No parents to hide behind, no name, no blood status."

"That's- admirable, Malfoy," Harry says, sincerely. "I hope you're happy with what you find."

Draco raises his glass, and Harry taps his cup against it.

…

Back at the Manor, the peacock drops some cards, face up, on the ground, and before Draco can pick them up, Harry sees there's several of him. There's one of Dumbledore, one of Salazar Slytherin, and one of Bowman Wright.

"Should I be concerned," he inquires, for lack of anything more coherent.

Draco glares at the peacock. "Fine," he snaps and stalks over to the pond. Harry's not surprised when the peacock ends up pushed inside while admiring its reappeared reflection. Thankfully, it quickly resurfaces, deliberately shaking the water off in Draco's direction.

Once its gone, Harry begins, "So-"

"When I was eleven, I met this little boy," Draco says, abruptly. "We were in a robe shop. He had messy hair, taped together glasses, and beautiful green eyes. I didn't know how to talk to children my own age, and so, I found myself babbling. He didn't seem to like me, but I thought that once we got to Hogwarts, I'd find him and keep trying. I don't know why. Sometimes, children just get inexplicable cases of puppy love based on the simplest of things. And then, I found out this boy was the bloody saviour of the wizarding world, and the fact he wanted nothing to do with me not only hurt, it made me, for the first time ever, wonder if maybe, everything I was so sure about was wrong."

Before Harry can respond, Draco sighs. "Goodnight, Auror Potter."

Not giving time for sense to come, Harry reaches over and pulls Draco into a kiss.

Eventually, breathing heavily, they pull apart, Harry's whole body tingling with power and energy.

He'd never thought about kissing or doing anything else along those lines with Malfoy, but in sixth year, he'd come to the realisation that the others were right about his obsession with the other boy. He didn't know about homosexuality until a few years into Hogwarts, and he accepted it easily. However, he reckons getting to teenagehood thinking only of girls with boys, men with women, the thought he might possibly be like that had never entered into his mind.

What does that make him? He did fancy Cho something awful, and he thoroughly enjoyed his less-than-innocent activities with Ginny.

"I'm still leaving tomorrow, but would you like to come in?"

Harry can go through an identity crisis later.

"First, you should know that, while I've had sex before, it was with a woman. I've never done anything, not even kiss, another man until now. And if that isn't a dealbreaker, should we go to my flat instead?"

"I don't care, and no, here's closer. However- damn it, don't you have to go to work in about thirty minutes?"

"I can make a floo call and tell them I'm taking a personal day. I doubt there's going to be a wave of dangerous crime if I take the night off."

They go inside, and a different elf takes Draco's cloak, while Harry explains, "No, thank you, I'll hang it in his room."

The elf gives them a knowing look and shakes his head. "Lobby take sir's cloak and keep it safe until sir calls. No need for Head Master and Madam to see."

Harry parts with the cloak.

"You can floo call from my room," Draco says, grabbing his hand.

…

Draco's room is surprising, but from Harry's seen tonight, it fits him.

It has a poster of his favourite Quidditch team, some newspaper clippings on the walls, and pictures of different transportation methods. There are pictures of flying, unmanned brooms, of cars, trains, dragons, ships, the Knight Bus, carpets, and even one of an aeroplane. The floors are hardwood oak, and the ceiling's enchanted to reflect the sky outside.

His window turns black as Harry looks at it, obviously deciding he shouldn't be allowed to look outside. He tries the dresser mirror, and it gives a distorted reflection. On the desk, which contains numerous drawers, is a notebook with a lock on it, several textbooks, a wireless, and a cordless lamp that is providing the room with adequate light. Fitting effortlessly under the desk is a large easy chair with wheels underneath it.

Finally, he lets his eyes fall on the thing he's most curious about. The bed, thankfully big enough for two adults, is perfectly made and has brown sheets and pillowcases.

Draco opens a drawer and withdraws a package of floo powder. "No need for a fire," he says, handing it to Harry and gesturing to the fireplace.

After he's called in and given his excuses, he looks at Draco, feeling a bit shy.

"We have all night," Draco says, casting a silencing charm over the room and a locking charm on the door. Reaching over, he says, "Let's take time to see where this goes."

"Brilliant," Harry answers.

…

In the morning, Draco heads off any awkwardness by saying, "I'll owl you. You can decide whether what I send you is the truth or a brilliant embellishment."

Shaking his head, remembering how Draco used to amaze half the class and irritate him when they were younger with grand stories, Harry kisses him. "I think I'd like that. Thank you for the night, Malfoy."

"Thank you," Draco says. "When I come back, let's get another drink. If one or both of us have found someone, it can just be a friendly catching up drink. If we haven't, well, we can decide then if it's more."

"That sounds good."

There's a knock on the door, startling both of them.

"It's Breeky, sir; she is wondering if he and any guests he might have would like some breakfast?"

Summoning a pair of pants, Draco waits until the sheets fully covers Harry's bottom half before opening the door, slightly.

…

After they eat, Draco sneaks him outside. "Be seeing you, Harry."

"You too, Draco," he says, chancing a quick kiss before leaving, unable to control the smile he feels spreading across his face.


End file.
